


The Incubus in the Hallway

by Dreamin



Series: Incubus!Sherlock [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Demon!lock, F/M, Masturbation, Romance, Soul Selling, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-05 20:48:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10316696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamin/pseuds/Dreamin
Summary: After Molly's fiancé Tom is murdered in a mugging gone wrong, she sells her soul to a demon in exchange for vengeance. Sherlock, an incubus, accepts her deal out of boredom but finds himself falling for her.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is loosely based on the anime "Black Butler," but you don't need to be familiar with it to read this.

“Are you certain you want to enter into a contract with me?” The disembodied voice echoed around the shadow-filled room, making it impossible to know where he was.

Molly Hooper was trembling in fear but hoped, prayed that the demon would mistake it for shivering from the cold, strong wind coming through the open window. _Why did I have to summon him in the middle of a windstorm?_ She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, then two more when that didn’t work. “I summoned you, didn’t I?” she asked, cursing her suddenly weak voice.

“That you did,” the unseen demon purred in her ear.

She jumped, she couldn’t help it. Her would-be avenger chuckled darkly, the sound surging like lightning through her nervous system.

_Is it possible to die from fear?_ Molly took another steadying breath. “Danny Forsythe is a free man while Tom … my Tom … lies dead and buried.” She swallowed hard, fighting back tears. _I’ve cried enough, it’s time for action._ “Kill the man who killed my fiancé and I’ll pay your price.” Belatedly, she remembered that she needed to close any loopholes. “As long as I don’t die by your hands.”

He chuckled again then purred in her other ear, “If I wanted to kill you, human, do you really think you could stop me?”

She shivered again, and she knew there was no mistaking it for a chill this time. “No,” she admitted quietly, “but if you swear you won’t, then you can’t.”

“You’ve done your research,” he said approvingly. “Very well.”

A whirlwind of crow feathers started swirling in front of her, moving faster and faster until a figure stepped forward from the center and the whirlwind vanished. The figure was a man, tall enough to tower over her petite frame, with curly hair as black as the feathers, eyes that were an impossible combination of blue-green-gold, sharply-defined cheekbones that a small part of her desperately wanted to touch, and fair, flawless skin that seemed to glow in the light of the single candle on the coffee table. He wore an expertly-tailored black designer suit, a white dress shirt with the first two buttons undone and the others straining, black dress shoes, black leather gloves, and a black Belstaff that billowed in the wind still whipping around her sitting room.

He chuckled at her wide eyes. The demon approached her slowly, like one would a skittish horse, then got down on one knee before her, like a knight kneeling before his queen. “Say the words,” he murmured, gazing up at her, his eyes flashing red.

Molly startled at the sight then mentally shook herself. _He’s a demon, what did you expect_? “Kill my enemy and you will have my soul when I die.”

“No harm shall come to you, by me or anyone else. I will destroy anyone who hurts you. I will serve you in every way until your death, then I will devour your soul. We have a bargain,” he murmured.

Removing his gloves, he took her left hand in both of his. His hands were warm, warmer than any human’s, then Molly felt a surge of heat flow into her. It was pleasant at first, then she felt a red-hot burning in her chest. Molly fell to her knees, gasping in pain, barely registering the large, strong hands holding her by her shoulders. When the pain stopped, she looked down to see part of a marking, almost like a brand, on her skin over her heart, visible just above the neckline of her shirt. She tugged the shirt down enough to see the entire marking. It was a pentagram surrounded by and filled with strange characters she didn’t understand.

“My mark,” he murmured. “It’s the symbol of our contract and it links me to you.” He lifted his left hand from her shoulder and showed the back of it to her. On it was the same mark.

“How does it link us?” The reality of the situation was only now dawning on her. _Oh God, what have I done?_

“If you ever need me, put your hand over the mark and say my name, I’ll come to you.”

“What’s your name?” _I’ve made a pact with the devil and I don’t even know his name..._

He smirked. “My real name is impossible for humans to pronounce. Call me Sherlock.” He helped her to her feet.

She took a few more deep breaths to steady herself again then looked up at him. Sherlock’s impossibly-colored eyes gazed back at her intently. Molly felt stripped bare but there was no time to worry about that now. _Danny Forsythe has escaped justice long enough._

“I gave you my word, it’s time you started holding up your end of the bargain,” she said firmly.

He nodded. “What will you have me do, Mistress?”

“First, that stops right now. ‘Mistress’ hasn’t meant ‘female master’ since the Nineteenth Century.” _With everything that’s happened in the past six months, you’d think that wouldn’t bother me, but it does, dammit._

He smirked again. “What shall I call you, then?”

“Molly.”

“A servant does not call his employer by her first name.”

“I didn’t agree to have you as my servant, that was all you. All I want is for you to avenge Tom’s death then leave me alone until I die.”

“A lifetime of service is an expected part of the contract. Your soul is worth much more than simply taking the life of a criminal. You deserve my service and you will receive it.”

_Where does a demon get off sounding so damn proper?_ “You’re not-” she started to protest again but he raised an eyebrow. She sighed quietly. “Fine, you’re my servant. If you’re not going to call me Molly, then you can call me Miss Hooper, I suppose.”

Sherlock nodded. Her eyes strayed down to the straining buttons on his shirt. _Free the buttons!_ she thought wildly then she lifted her eyes back to his still-smirking face.

“I take it you like what you see,” he murmured, amused.

Molly felt her cheeks burning but she ignored the sensation. “You’re not here for that,” she said firmly.

“I said I’d serve you in every way I can,” he murmured. He leaned to whisper in her ear. “All you have to do is ask.”

Molly groaned in frustration. “All I care about is Danny Forsythe getting what he deserves. Nothing else matters.”

He raised an eyebrow as he assessed her. “You truly believe that. Very well, I am your servant. I will do as you bid me.” He bowed to her, a low, formal bow, then disappeared in a swirl of crow feathers. As soon as he was gone, the lights in her flat came on by themselves and the window closed itself.

Molly stared at where he’d been. _What in the HELL have I gotten myself into?_ The enormity of the situation hit her in waves. _I made a deal with a devil, an actual devil… I asked him to kill Danny Forsythe in exchange for my soul… I’m going to be responsible for the death of another human being…_ Her eyes flit to the mantel above the fireplace, where she kept a framed copy of her and Tom’s engagement photo. He was standing behind her, his arms wrapped around her, and they were both smiling and happy. _No, Danny is the one responsible for the death of another human being – my Tom. The police botched up the evidence so the jury let him walk but he needs to be punished for what he did…_

Her thoughts inevitably drifted to the night of the mugging and Molly shook her head. _No, I’m not going down that path tonight._ Bone-weary, she laid down on the sofa and turned on the telly, flipping through channels until she found a documentary about cats. _Tom was so good when Toby died… I know that if he hadn’t been allergic, he would have gotten me another cat._ The narrator was talking about rival toms fighting over a queen when she started to doze off.

The telly suddenly turned off. Molly looked up to see Sherlock standing above her. His coat was gone but otherwise he was unchanged. He was holding the remote in one hand. Sherlock set it on the coffee table then sat on the sofa and pulled her into his lap. Heat radiated from him, making her want to curl up against him. Coming to her senses, Molly tried to get up but he held her firmly.

“Stop squirming,” he murmured, smirking a bit. “You’re only going to excite me.”

Molly stopped struggling. “Did you kill him?” she asked quietly. At his nod, she asked how, then thought better of it. “On second thought, don’t tell me. I don’t need to know.”

He nodded. “It’s better if you didn’t know my methods. Suffice it to say, he will not be able to hurt you or anyone else.”

She felt her body sag in relief. Sherlock silently encouraged her to lay her head on his shoulder. “Thank you,” she murmured, glad she couldn’t see his eyes. “I’ve spent the last six months wanting him to face justice. When the jury acquitted him last month on a technicality, I had never felt so betrayed.”

“That’s when you read up on summoning demons.” His voice was soft, soothing. “Now that that ugliness is behind us…” Sherlock’s hands moved to the hem of her jumper.

Molly lifted her head to give him a disapproving glare. “Uh, no. We’re not going there.” She batted his hands away.

“I made a vow to serve you,” he murmured as he nuzzled her neck. “What better way to serve you is there than this?”

_What, indeed? But really, I can’t do this…_ She gently pushed at his chest until he lifted his head, his eyes questioning. “I can’t, Sherlock,” she murmured. “Meaningless sex has never been in my nature. I’ll let you serve me every other way, just not that.” She moved to get up and this time, he let her slide off his lap and stand up shakily, not looking at him.

Sherlock watched her for a moment. “How long has it been?” he murmured.

She glanced at the photo on the mantle again. “Tom’s been dead six months,” she said quietly. “You know that perfectly well.”

“How long has it been?”

Molly sighed heavily. “Eight months. The last time we’d had sex was eight months ago, then he started to feel all this stress from work and, well…”

“Don’t make me repeat myself again, Miss Hooper,” Sherlock said firmly.

She turned to stare at him. _What? Then what’s he asking? Oh…_ “Four years. Jim was nice and really good in bed, but I ended it when I realized he was just using me.”

Sherlock stood up, his eyes locked on hers. “Why were you going to marry Tom if the sex, never good to begin with, was nonexistent?”

Molly laughed weakly, desperate to be rid of some of the tension rising in her. “Sex isn’t everything.” At his smirk, she insisted, “It isn’t. There’s so much more to love than just sex. Tom and I were there for each other.”

“Four years without good sex.” He shook his head in disbelief. “It’s a wonder you haven’t spontaneously combusted.”

She glared at him. “Why are you so obsessed with my sex life anyway?”

He smiled a bit. “You haven’t guessed? I’m an incubus.”

_Well, that explains it._ In her research on demons, she had found lots of information on incubi and succubi, but none of it current. “If you’re a sex demon, why are you making bargains?”

“Bored,” he said simply. “It’s hard to find women to seduce these days when everyone is already so debauched.”

_He’s got a point. Of course, a lack of women to seduce is probably why he wants to get into my knickers so bad – I’m not exactly debauched. But it’s still not going to happen._ “So … how often are you going to be around? Once a fortnight?” She could hear the hopefulness in her voice and hoped she didn’t sound too eager to be rid of him.

He chuckled, the sound flowing through her nervous system again, but this time all she felt was arousal. “Every day. Serving you means I am never far from you.” She couldn’t help feeling a bit panicked at that and he must have seen it. “Never further than the next room or so.”

Molly relaxed at that. “I … I think we need to set down a few ground rules. One, you keep your hands to yourself.”

Sherlock approached her, smirking a bit. “Are you certain you don’t want to take advantage of my centuries of expertise?”

_Centuries?_ Feeling her resolve starting to waver, she shook her head to clear it and said firmly, “I’m sure. Two, you’re my servant but we can’t let the outside world know about our contract. I’ll say you’re my-”

“Boyfriend?” he asked innocently, but his eyes were dancing.

“Butler.” Disappointment flashed in his opalescent eyes but she ignored it. “I can say I won a year of your services at a charity fundraiser. There’s no way my friends are going to believe it, they’ll probably think we’re dating anyway. Of course, they’ll be concerned about me dating only six months after Tom.” She smiled at him weakly. “Be prepared for lots of questions, especially from Greg, he’s a detective inspector.”

“So, I’m to receive all the suspicion a new boyfriend would receive, without the pleasure of actually being your boyfriend?” His voice was low and soft, making Molly think of black velvet.

She shivered then glared at him. “Yes. Please, stop trying to seduce me. I know you’re an incubus and it’s your nature, but you can fight your nature.”

He leaned to murmur in her ear, “As you wish, Miss Hooper.” At her continued glare, he went back to the sofa and sat down, crossing his legs and stretching his arms out along the back of the sofa, his eyes on her. “Anything else?”

Molly tried hard to ignore the fact that the buttons on his shirt were really straining now, but she could tell by Sherlock’s smirk that he knew she was fighting a losing battle. “Three, we will respect each other’s privacy. If you ask me a question I’m not comfortable answering, you will accept that. Also, privacy means my bedroom is completely off-limits.”

“Very well.”

_He accepted that way too easily_ , Molly thought suspiciously. “Do demons sleep?”

Sherlock chuckled. “Out of necessity, incubi and succubi physiology is nearly identical to a human’s. I don’t need as much sleep, but I do sleep.”

Molly could feel her scientific curiosity rising. “What about food? Injuries? Diseases? Can you be killed?”

He smirked. “Thinking of getting out of our contract already?”

She grabbed a pillow from the recliner and threw it at his smug face. “Just answer the questions.”

He caught the pillow in mid-air then put it behind his head, smirking. “I can eat human food, but my only true sustenance comes from souls.” Molly could feel the blood leave her face and knew he must have seen it. “I’m immune to all human diseases. I can be injured or killed, but it takes a lot more to do it than any human.” He stood up then approached her again, saying softly, “Really, you couldn’t have found a better protector.”

Molly looked up at him warily. “But who’s going to protect me from you?” _I could drown in those eyes…_

He chuckled softly then murmured, “I’m afraid that task falls to you alone. Are you sure you’re up to it?”

_Hell no!_ “Um, I have to be.” She managed to smile weakly. “One of us has to be the grown-up.” He chuckled again and she felt the tension that had been building up dissipating. “It’s getting late. I’ll, um, give you the grand tour then we should both get to bed.” At his hopeful look, she smirked. “Separately. The guestroom is perfectly fine for you.”

Sherlock leaned to murmur in her ear, “You’re a cruel, cruel woman, Miss Hooper.”

She laughed softly. _Payback’s a bitch, sexy._ “Oh, believe me, Sherlock, part of me is furious that I’m not taking you up on your offer. C’mon, I’ll show you around.” She turned and lead the way to the kitchen.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and Molly attempt to define their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, we first get a sense of Mycroft. He's still an angel in good standing while Sherlock is a fallen angel. Thank you to everyone who has commented, bookmarked, or given kudos so far, you're keeping me going.

Hours later, Sherlock lay wide-awake in the guestroom bed, his new client’s words echoing in his head. “ _Oh, believe me, Sherlock, part of me is furious that I’m not taking you up on your offer.”_ He changed positions for the umpteenth time that hour, so that he was lying on his side, his eyes on the door. _Her bedroom is next door._ _Why am I not in there with her, encouraging that part of her?_ He heard his older brother’s mocking voice in his head. _Could it be you’ve finally found a human you respect? How very unlike you, Sherlock._

“Sod off, Mycroft,” he muttered aloud. He hadn’t seen his older brother since the Fall, but that didn’t stop him from acting as Sherlock’s conscience, such as it was. Giving up on getting his usual four hours of sleep, he got up and pulled on his burgundy silk dressing gown, not bothering to tie it. Sherlock smiled a bit as he remembered the look on Molly’s face when he’d snapped his fingers and his entire designer wardrobe appeared in the guestroom closet. She’d lightly fingered the material of his aubergine dress shirt and he’d desperately wanted to feel those delicate fingers dancing across his skin.

 _I still do. This imposed celibacy is going to be the death of me._ He left the guest room, pausing just long enough outside Molly’s bedroom to assure himself that she was still asleep, then he walked down the hall to her small office. She had told him the room was off-limits during the tour, but if there was one thing Sherlock had a problem with, it was boundaries.

He sat at her desk and turned on her laptop. The password was easy to guess – mytom. Sherlock soon found himself looking through her photos. Pictures of a happy Molly and her bad-in-bed fiancé scrolled by. _What did she ever see in him? Did he even appreciate this woman, who’s willing to give up her soul for him even now?_

 _What do you care?_ Mycroft’s voice was back again. _You’ll get to feast on her soul, isn’t that all that matters?_ _Or are you finally starting to think about the whole person, not just the soul or the body?_

“Shut up, Mycroft!” he shouted, furiously ruffling his curls with both hands as if that gesture would be enough to purge his older brother from his head.

“Sherlock?” The quiet voice from the doorway was definitely not Mycroft’s.

He looked up to see Molly standing there, her long hair in a braid, wearing a threadbare sky blue bathrobe over pale yellow pajamas covered in, of all things, cartoon kittens and watermelons, and cat slippers. But it was her eyes that drew his – bleary from her interrupted sleep but full of concern.

“Are you alright?” She came closer.

Sherlock quickly stood up but in his haste, he forgot that he hadn’t bothered to tie his dressing gown closed and wasn’t wearing anything underneath it. Molly’s eyes, large to begin with, went almost unnaturally wide and her cheeks flushed bright red before she quickly turned away from him. Sherlock blinked at her in confusion then looked down at himself.

“Oh.” He closed his dressing gown and tied it securely. “There.”

Molly turned back warily but relaxed a bit when she saw that he was covered, though her cheeks were still pink. “Do you, um, always walk around showing off your, um, assets to everyone?”

 _Now, do I flirt with her? Or do I just be honest?_ He smiled a bit. “Only with the people I like.” Seeing her flush deepen, he chuckled softly. “Honestly, I forgot. I live alone, so there’s no one to see me no matter what state of undress I’m in.” He reached out to gently take her hand, murmuring, “Forgive me, Miss Hooper.”

She shivered as she pulled her hand away. “I do.” She looked over at her laptop and raised an eyebrow at him. “We need to talk about you hacking into my computer. That’s not as easy to forgive.”

“I wanted to know more about you.” Even to his own ears, he sounded like a little boy who got caught sneaking sweets before dinner. _What is the matter with me?_

“You could have asked.” Molly shut down the laptop then looked at him expectantly.

“Did he appreciate you?” he murmured. “Would he have appreciated the lengths you’ve gone to avenge him?”

She stared at him long enough for him to feel uncomfortable for even asking. He was about to take the question back when she sighed painfully. “It doesn’t matter now. He’s dead but I owed him vengeance. The price doesn’t matter, only the result.”

“Would he have done the same for you?”

“No.” Her answer was immediate and certain.

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re that sure?”

“Yes.” Molly swallowed hard. “I don’t want to go into why, I just know he wouldn’t have done the same thing.”

Sherlock lightly rested his hands on her shoulders. “Why would you give up eternity for someone who wouldn’t do the same?” He kept his voice soft and gentle, and his hands still, but what he really wanted to do was shake some sense into this woman.

Molly looked up at him with those big brown eyes and said softly, “Love.” She moved out of his grasp, her tone changing to annoyed. “Now, if you’re done snooping, I’d like to get back to bed.”

“Alone?” He gave her his most charming smile, the one that could seduce the most chaste virgin.

She just rolled her eyes. “Yes, alone.” Molly turned and left the room, not seeing the gobsmacked look on his face.

 _The hell? That smile always worked before!_ He heard Mycroft chuckle in his head. _Losing your touch, brother mine?_ “She’s just tired,” he muttered. Sherlock was about to leave the room when he noticed the framed photo of Tom on her desk. In a fit of pique, he waved his hand over it, the photo of Tom changing to one of him. _Much better._

The next morning, Sherlock was already in the kitchen and making French toast when Molly walked in. She stared at him, then at the bread frying in the pan, then back at him.

“I didn’t know you could cook,” she said. She got a cup out of the cabinet then reached for the full coffeepot and poured herself a cup. “Or knew how to make coffee.”

Sherlock smirked. “I said I’d serve you. This is easy compared to some of the things I’ve done for past masters.”

“Such as?” She sipped her coffee. “Mmm, this is good.”

He grinned his thanks then slid the finished French toast slices on a plate. “Toppled a few dictators, changed the results of a few elections, that sort of thing.” He found maple syrup and powdered sugar in the cabinets and offered them to her.

“Both,” she said, smiling a bit. “So, you’re the person keeping the 24-hour news cycle cycling.”

He chuckled as he drizzled the syrup over the pieces then sprinkled them with powdered sugar. “Something like that. I may or may not also be behind a few ‘no confidence’ votes, I’m not at liberty to say.” He gave her the plate and started on his own breakfast. “Silverware’s on the peninsula.”

Molly sat down on one of the kitchen chairs and started eating. “I can’t think of enough synonyms for ‘delicious’ to describe these, Sherlock.”

He laughed softly as he put the eggy pieces of bread on the skillet. “Thank you. I love to cook but my favorite thing to make is dessert.” He turned to her, grinning wickedly. “I warn you, I’m not above using chocolate to get what I want.”

Molly’s cheeks reddened as she smiled at him. “I’m going to need to be on my guard around you.”

 _I thought you already were,_ Sherlock thought. _I’ll just try harder, then._

After breakfast, Molly put on sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt then started doing her laundry. Sherlock suspected that she chose to wear her most shapeless clothes because of him. _It doesn’t matter what she wears, she’s still an attractive woman._ He leaned against the doorway to the laundry room, grinning to himself as she bent over to pick up a stray sock from the floor, unintentionally giving him a nice view of her bum, even in the sweats.

“You should let me handle that,” he said, amused. “I’m the servant, after all.”

Molly straightened then turned to glare at him. “I’ll do my own laundry, thank you. The last thing I need is you pawing at my bras and panties.”

“I never paw at anything,” Sherlock said, mock-offended. “I fondle, I grope, I even hold reverently if given half a chance, but I never paw.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re still not touching my lingerie.”

“What if I do the rest of your laundry and leave the unmentionables to you?” he asked, trying hard to keep a straight face.

After a moment’s consideration, she nodded. “Alright, that’ll free up a good part of my Saturdays.”

“That’s why I’m here, to make your life easier.” Sherlock straightened then moved to her, smiling a bit. “Now that I’ve freed up hours of your precious time, how shall we spend it?” He leaned to murmur in her ear, “I can think of a few ways.”

“I’m sure you can,” Molly said, in a tone that sounded to Sherlock a lot more patronizing than promising. “But that’s not what you’re here for.”

“It’s only a matter of time,” he said, smirking. _And I have all the time in the world._

As the weekend went on, Sherlock took over more and more of Molly’s household chores. Sunday afternoon found Molly curled up with a book and a cuppa in her favorite chair in the sitting room instead of working on her to do list. Sherlock was preparing dinner in the kitchen. Every so often, he could feel her eyes on him. He had decided to make a game of it. The first time he felt it, he removed his jacket. The second time, he rolled up his sleeves. He was debating what to do if he felt her eyes on him a third time when he heard her speak from the couch.

“It’s going to be hard to make dinner without a shirt on, Sherlock.”

“For you or for me?”

He heard one of the pillows hit the floor between the couch and the kitchen with a thump. He smirked. “You’re going to have to throw a lot harder than that if you expect to hit me from there.”

“Insufferable demon,” Molly muttered.

Sherlock just laughed.

Monday morning, Sherlock was just pulling on his Belstaff when Molly headed for the hall closet. She gave him an inquisitive look.

“Going somewhere?”

He smiled a bit. “I’m going to escort you to work.”

She blinked in surprise. “Every day?”

“Yes, of course. You never know what dangers you’ll meet on the Tube.”

Molly rolled her eyes. “Sherlock, I’ve never been-” She stopped herself and sighed quietly, and Sherlock knew she was thinking of the mugging. “Maybe I do need a protector.”

Sherlock nodded then helped her into her coat and offered her his arm, smiling a bit. “The best protectors are scarier than what’s threatening you, and what’s scarier than a demon?”

Molly laughed softly. “Not much.”

While Molly was at work, Sherlock took it upon himself to clean every room of her flat, floor to ceiling. When he was done, he still had time to kill until it was time to return to Bart’s for the end of her shift. Sherlock hated being bored. There was always something interesting to do, he just had to find it. He was pacing the kitchen, trying to decide on what to do next, when his eyes landed on one of Molly’s little-used cookbooks.

_Perfect!_

When he and Molly walked back into the flat that evening, the first thing she did was sniff the air. He grinned as her face lit up.

“Ginger nuts!”

Sherlock chuckled. “They’re my favorite too.” He helped her out of her coat. “Why don’t you have a couple while I make dinner?”

Molly was already heading to the kitchen. Sherlock hung up her coat then his as well, smirking to himself. _It looks like I’ll be able to seduce her with my cooking. Easiest seduction ever._

He mentioned his cleaning session and subsequent boredom to Molly over chicken fricassee. She laughed softly.

“Sherlock, I never asked you to clean my flat.” She gave him an amused smile.

He found himself temporarily mesmerized by her dancing eyes and dimples then mentally shook himself. “How else can I serve you when you’re not here?”

Molly sighed softly. “You don’t need to serve me all the time. I’m a perfectly capable adult, after all.”

“My service is part of the contract,” he reminded her. His next words fell out of his mouth without so much as a by-your-leave from his brain. “After everything you have been through, you need someone to look after you.” _What the hell?_ _Between this and offering to escort her, it sounds like I’m getting soft._

The strange look Molly gave him made him think she must be thinking the same thing. “I was doing fine on my own, Sherlock. I’ve been alone for most of my adult life.”

“You’re not alone now, my service is for life.” _Why am I telling her all this? She knows it just as well as I do._

She considered his words for a moment then smiled a bit. “Well, then, we’d better find you a hobby.”

“I have a hobby, I’m a violinist.”

Molly’s face lit up. “I love violin music! Could you play for me after dinner? Please?”

 _How could I say no to that?_ He pretended to think about it, unable to keep a smirk off his face. “Well…”

She tossed her wadded-up napkin at him, laughing softly. “For an incubus, you’re an awful tease.”

He chuckled deeply then murmured, “I never tease about the important things.” Without giving her a chance to respond, he snatched her hand and kissed her knuckles, his eyes locked on hers the entire time. She shivered, her pupils dilated, and in that moment, he knew he had her. He leaned to murmur in her ear, “Will you sing for me after?”

She hesitated, giving him hope, then sighed quietly, not meeting his eyes. “I’m tempted. I’m really, really tempted, but I can’t, Sherlock. I don’t love you. It would be different if I did.”

Sherlock felt a flicker of pain somewhere in his chest at her words but he ignored it as he leaned back. “Your strength is … admirable. I can’t remember the last time a woman was able to resist me.”

Molly smiled at him weakly. “I guess that makes me special.”

 _More than you know._ Instead of responding, he got up and took both of their plates to the kitchen. Molly followed him, leaning against the peninsula as he washed the dishes. He could feel her eyes on him, specifically his arse, and he couldn’t hold back a grin. _I’m wearing her down._

“What’s for dessert?” she asked when the dishes were done.

He turned to grin at her. “Triple Chocolate Mousse Cake.”

Sherlock knew that the sound of the soft moan that left her lips would stay with him for the rest of his days.

A few nights later, Sherlock was jolted awake by the sound of Molly screaming. He jumped out of bed and ran to her room. As soon as he opened the door, he knew the cause of her distress. Molly was in bed, her eyes squeezed shut as she thrashed her limbs, tears streaming down her face. “Tom! Tom! Nooooo….” It was a long, loud, heartbroken wail.

Sherlock went to the bed and leaned over the still-thrashing Molly, gently pinning her wrists to the bed. “Molly,” he murmured, “Molly, wake up…” She struggled against him so he said her name louder. “Molly, wake up!”

Her eyes shot open and she stopped struggling. She stared at him confusedly for a heartbeat then started to sob. Sherlock sat on the bed and, not knowing what else to do, gently pulled her into his lap. Molly clung to him as she sobbed into his shoulder. His arms wrapped around her protectively as he murmured soothing sounds into her hair. When her sobbing was reduced to quiet sniffles, he offered her a black linen handkerchief.

Molly laughed weakly as she accepted it and dried her eyes. “How did I know your handkerchief would be black?”

He chuckled softly. “It’s my favorite color.” He gently stroked her hair, murmuring, “Do you want to talk about it?”

She sighed painfully. “It was the mugging all over again. Only this time, it was worse.”

“How?”

“In real life, Tom died instantly when Danny shot him.” She swallowed hard. “But in my dream, he lingered. He told me he wanted me to be happy and that meant that I have to move on. He made me promise I’d find someone else, then he died in my arms.”

Sherlock didn’t say anything at first, he just held her close. After a moment, he asked gently, “Do you think this is your subconscious mind’s way of telling you that it is time to move on?”

Molly was silent for so long that Sherlock was afraid he’d offended her. “I don’t know,” she said finally. She lifted her head to look at him. The vulnerability in her eyes made him want to put himself between her and the world at large. “It’s been almost seven months since he died. If I start dating again now, people will say I didn’t really care about Tom.”

“Then they’re idiots,” he said firmly. “All that matters is what you think.”

She laid her head on his shoulder, sighing again. “I have to think about it.” After a moment, she said with a smile in her voice, “Oh, and thank you for actually wearing something this time.” She tugged lightly at his charcoal gray pajamas.

He chuckled softly. “You’re welcome.” He held her for a moment then murmured, “I should go.”

Molly’s response was immediate and slightly panicked. “No!” She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I just … I don’t want to be alone right now. Will you stay? Please?”

He murmured, “Miss Hooper, I will do anything you ask of me.” He laid her back on the bed then laid down next to her and gently pulled her into his arms.

“Will you call me Molly?” she asked softly, stifling a yawn. “You called me Molly when you woke me.”

“If that’s what you want, Molly.” He waited for her to respond then realized she was asleep. Sherlock sighed quietly. _You’re in deep, Sherlock. Deeper than you ever intended to go._ “Bugger off, Mycroft.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly introduces Sherlock to her friends and Sherlock tells her about the second-biggest mistake he's ever made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just had to include my favorite running gag from "Black Butler."

The next morning, Molly woke up to find herself lying on her side with a man’s arm wrapped around her waist. It took her a moment to remember how that could be possible. _Sherlock. I had a nightmare and Sherlock came in and comforted me. And in a moment of weakness, I asked him to stay. I asked an incubus to spend the night with me. I must be out of my mind. It’s a good thing he’s a gentleman. Er, gentledemon? Whatever, he didn’t try to get into my knickers._

“I know you’re awake,” he murmured in her ear, his arm squeezing her lightly. “You’re thinking about last night and you want to avoid any lingering awkwardness between us.”

“Something like that,” she admitted. She slowly turned to face him. _Okay, not fair. No one should look that good first thing in the morning._

He smiled at her fondly and it took every fiber of her being to not kiss him. “Good morning, Molly.”

“Good morning, Sherlock.” She decided to give in to a less-dangerous impulse and hugged him gently. “Thank you…”

“You don’t need to thank me.” Sherlock held her close for a moment.

Molly enjoyed feeling the heat of his body seep into her. _If I stay in bed any longer, I’m going to do something I know I’ll regret later._ Giving in to one last impulse, she softly kissed his cheek then got out of bed.

Sherlock leaned back on his elbows as he watched her, murmuring, “You’re very beautiful first thing in the morning, you know.”

She paused halfway through unbraiding her hair to look at him, annoyed. “Stop it, Sherlock. You were being so nice, don’t ruin it with another go at seducing me. You said you wouldn’t.”

He sat up fully, his eyes locked on hers. “I wasn’t trying to seduce you, I was just stating a fact. You were open, vulnerable, and soft. Innocent, like the horrors of life haven’t touched you.”

 _He’s seducing me without even trying_. She sighed quietly. “Enough.” She finished unbraiding her hair. “I’m going to take a shower.” _So help me, if he even suggests joining me…_

“I’ll make breakfast.” He got out of bed and stood in front of her, watching her for a moment, then he said softly, “We are going to be together for the rest of your life, Molly. You know just as well as I do that at some point, we will be lovers.” Sherlock raised a hand to lightly stroke her jawline. “Why fight the inevitable?”

Molly successfully suppressed the shiver his warm fingers on her skin evoked. “We could just as likely be friends,” she offered and smiled a bit. “I know platonic relationships between men and women are a foreign concept to an incubus, but they do happen. My closest male friends are the brothers I never had.”

Sherlock chuckled. “Believe me, Molly, I have no desire to be your brother. If you wish for us to be friends, I suppose I could give it a go, if only for the novelty of having a female friend.” He smiled a bit. “I can’t say I won’t flirt with you, but I promise I’ll stop trying to seduce you.” He offered her his hand.

“Fair enough,” Molly said, then shook his hand. He held hers longer than was strictly necessary, the heat from his skin flowing into her until she abruptly let go. She could feel her cheeks flushing.

Sherlock smirked. “Right, breakfast.” He left the room, whistling innocently.

Molly leaned against the doorway, her knees suddenly weak. _God, why can’t I just give in? I’m sure it would be the best sex I’ve ever had. Oh, right – because once it’s over, he’ll just find another conquest, contract or no. I haven’t known Sherlock long, but the thought of him with another woman is unbearable. Part of me really wishes he would just leave me in peace, but I know if he did, I would miss him terribly._

After showering and dressing, Molly was in the middle of eating the fluffiest pancakes she’d ever had when her mobile chirped. She read the text then groaned quietly.

“Not the kind of groan I like to hear,” Sherlock said, his coffee cup halfway to his lips. “What’s wrong?”

“My friend Mary reminded me that all of us had planned to go to the pub tonight. She’s been trying to get me to be more social lately.”

“And you don’t want to go out?”

“My friends are great, I just don’t feel like getting hit on by a bunch of drunk idiots.” She smiled at him slightly. “If I wanted to be hit on, I have a sober incubus right here at home.”

He chuckled. “What if the sober incubus went with you and kept the drunk idiots at bay?”

She blinked at him. “You’d do that?” _I thought he’d maybe want a night off._

“I said I’d protect you,” Sherlock smiled a bit, “even against inebriated morons.”

Molly smiled at him gratefully then sent off a text.

_9:16a I’ll be there, I’m bringing a friend. Molly_

_9:20a Great! Who’s your friend? MW_

_9:21a His name’s Sherlock. You’re not going to believe this, but he’s my butler. Molly_

_9:23a You’re right, I don’t believe it. How’d you get a butler? MW_

_9:25a I won his services for a year at a charity fundraiser I went to last weekend. Molly_

_9:27a And exactly what services is he providing? ;) MW_

_9:30a *eyeroll* He’s a gentleman, Mary. He cooks, he cleans, he plays the violin for me. Molly_

_9:32a A musically-talented man who cooks AND cleans? Definitely better than sex. MW_

Molly felt herself blushing. _Well, I wouldn’t say that…_

_9:35a Do you think you can keep Greg and John from interrogating him all night? Molly_

_9:37a John’s easy – I’ll just threaten to make him sleep on the couch. That won’t work on Greg. MW_

_9:39a True. I’ll just have to hope he remembers Sherlock is a friend, not a suspect. Molly_

She looked up at Sherlock, who was pretending to be interested in his breakfast. Molly smiled a bit. “You have to promise to be on your best behavior. No flirting, no innuendo, no turning anyone into a newt.”

He smirked at her. “When have you seen me turn someone into a newt?”

“So, you’re not denying that you can.” She grinned. “Good to know for the future, but you can’t do that tonight. And please, try not to get into any fights. The last thing I need is to come up with bail money because Greg threw you in jail.”

“I promise I’ll behave,” he said solemnly, but there was a definite twinkle in his eye.

 _Devilish,_ Molly thought. _There’s no other word for it._

That evening, she watched telly while she waited for Sherlock to finish getting ready. _And here I thought women took longer._ She was about to yell for him to hurry up when she heard him come into the room. “It’s about time.” Molly looked up and stared.

Sherlock was wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. His still-damp curls were quickly drying into their usual artful disarray. He held up his aubergine dress shirt that Molly loved and a nearly identical teal blue one. She was taking in every detail of his sculpted chest when she heard him chuckle and she dragged her eyes up to his, her face flaming.

“As much as I like having you admire my physique,” he drawled, smirking, “I do need your help. Which one?”

“Oh, um…” _The aubergine one goes best with his coloring, but the teal one brings out the blue in his eyes. Either one will have women drooling over him._ “Is there a third option?”

“What’s wrong with these two?”

“Too formal, it’s just the neighborhood pub.” She indicated her own knee-length denim skirt and oversized rose-print blouse.

“I don’t own anything casual.”

Molly couldn’t help staring at him, again. “You don’t even own a pair of jeans?”

“No, should I?”

 _Yes, if only because that arse will look fantastic in tight denim._ She mentally shook herself. “They’re a staple. You can get away with a dress shirt if you wear jeans with it.”

He nodded then smiled a bit. “Then we’re back to my original question.” Sherlock held up both shirts again.

Molly would swear the towel slid lower on his hips. “Um, the teal one.”

“Thank you.” He left the room.

She let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d held. _Oh God, he’s going to be the death of me, no matter what he swore._

In the cab on the way to the pub, Molly couldn’t help glancing at Sherlock several times. She didn’t know where he got the indigo jeans at the last minute, but they fit him perfectly and complemented his teal shirt. The first two buttons were undone but the rest were straining, as usual. Molly wondered if he should buy larger shirts but decided that if someone was going to advise him that, it certainly wasn’t going to be her. He also wore his Belstaff and black oxfords.

“I’m glad my outfit meets with your approval,” he murmured when he caught her looking at him yet again.

Molly wanted to wipe the smirk off his face but she knew he was right. “You know you’re good-looking, you don’t need to be so smug.”

He just laughed.

As soon as they walked in the pub, Molly could feel every eye in the room looking at them. The other women were openly ogling Sherlock, though he seemed not to notice. She deliberately ignored how that made her feel then she found John, Mary, and Greg at a table in the back. “C’mon.” She took Sherlock’s hand, mentally telling herself it was necessary, then led him to the table.

Her three friends stood up when they approached. Molly smiled happily. “Guys, this is Sherlock. Sherlock, these are my friends John, his wife Mary, and Greg.”

Sherlock shook their hands then held out a chair for Molly. When they were all seated, it was less than a second before the questions started.

“So, Sherlock,” Mary said, grinning, “you’re Molly’s butler for a year?”

He nodded. “Longer, if she’ll have me.”

Molly shot him a warning look. “Let’s call this a probationary period.”

“What, exactly, does a Twenty-first Century butler do?” Greg asked. “It’s not like Molly owns a manor.”

“When it comes to serving, I’m a jack-of-all-trades,” Sherlock replied, smiling a bit. “I cook, I clean, I entertain. I’m simply one hell of a butler.” He grinned when Molly snickered.

John looked dubious. “Entertain how?”

Sherlock was saved from answering for the moment by the waitress. He ordered pints for himself and Molly then turned to John when the waitress left again. “I play the violin for her.”

“He’s very good,” Molly said. “And you should taste his cooking, especially his desserts. I think I’ve gained three pounds already.”

“Two and a half,” Sherlock said. He ignored Mary’s smirk and John’s warning look.

Molly just rolled her eyes. “Either way, I’m eating better than I have in ages. I didn’t see a point in actually making dinner when it was just me – I ate mostly frozen dinners and take-away.”

Sherlock smiled a bit. “I’m happy to ensure you get what you need.”

John and Greg both choked on their beers. Mary laughed at all three of them.

“Have you always been a butler, Sherlock?” she asked.

He smiled a bit at Molly before turning to Mary. “I’ve had other positions, but they’ve all involved service. You could say it’s a family affair – my older brother Mycroft still serves our first employer.”

“Where do you live?” John asked. “I’ve never seen you around here.”

“I’m currently living with Molly.”

Greg turned to her, incredulous. “Molly, you’ve just met this man! You barely know him! Did you at least do a background check first?”

“He’s been checked, Greg,” she replied, trying hard to keep her patience. “I trust him.” She ignored the surprised look Sherlock gave her.

Mary smiled at Sherlock. “You’ll have to excuse John and Greg, Sherlock. Molly’s like a sister to them.”

“Yes,” John added. “We don’t want to see her get hurt.”

“That’s understandable,” Sherlock said. “I don’t want to see her hurt either.”

Greg was scowling and Molly knew the subject of Sherlock’s worthiness would come up again. She decided what they needed was a change in topic. “So, who’s playing tonight?”

When it was time to leave, Sherlock and Molly couldn’t find a cab so they decided to walk. Molly was lost in her own thoughts, barely noticing the incubus next to her. _Greg was in such a bad mood tonight. I know he wants to protect me but he should realize I’d never do anything stupid. Well, except sell my soul to a demon, but nothing else! And when you consider how nice Sherlock has been, I can’t really say that selling my soul to him was all that bad of an idea._

She jumped slightly as she felt Sherlock’s Belstaff settle on her shoulders. Molly looked at him, confused.

“You were shivering,” he said simply.

 _I was?_ “Oh, thank you,” she murmured. “I didn’t notice.” She slid her arms into the sleeves of the warm coat and took a deep breath, smelling Sherlock’s citrus and sandalwood cologne and the slightest hint of smoke. _Like someone lit a match then blew it out._ “Do all demons smell like matches?”

He chuckled. “Only the ones that haven’t been to Hell in a while. Demons who live there smell like bonfires.” He offered her his arm.

Molly took it. “When was the last time you were in Hell?”

“Over a millennium and a half ago. Since I deal directly with humanity, I only need to go to Hell when I screw up royally.”

“What happened fifteen hundred years ago?”

Sherlock was silent so long that Molly wondered if he heard the question. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said flatly.

She gently squeezed his arm. “That’s fine, Sherlock. I don’t like talking about my past screw-ups either.”

Once they got back to her place, she took off the Belstaff and hung it up then turned to him, smiling a bit. “Despite the fact that my male friends don’t trust you at all, I had a pleasant evening.”

He chuckled softly. “So did I. And you’re right, they don’t trust me. But they have good reason not to.”

Molly playfully rolled her eyes. “Yes, yes, you’re a big, bad demon and deep down, they can sense there’s something off about you. But really, they probably think you’re just an ordinary bloke who’s looking to get into my knickers.”

Sherlock smirked. “And we both know how I feel about your knickers.”

She groaned quietly. “Goodnight, Sherlock.”

He just smiled at her. “Goodnight, Molly.”

* * *

That night, Sherlock was once again tossing and turning. Molly’s words echoed in his head. _“I trust him.” Was she just saying that to get Greg off my back? Or does she actually trust me? If she does, she shouldn’t. I’ll do nothing but break her heart, I don’t need Mycroft to tell me that._ He sighed quietly. _I need to get laid. That will ease this non-stop tension. And if the woman I seduce has brown hair and big brown eyes like Molly, well, who’s going to know but me?_ An image of Molly’s face after she found out he’d slept with another woman flashed in his mind. _Molly, don’t look at me like that. You know you’re the only one I… Oh, **fuck** … _Sherlock buried his face in the pillow, groaning in frustration.

Deciding a drink was in order, he left the guestroom and quietly walked down the hall to the kitchen. Pouring himself a glass of her special-occasion Scotch, Sherlock held up the glass. “To you, Molly, and the poor bastard who loves you.”

“It’s sweet of you to want to toast Tom and me,” Molly said softly from the doorway, “but I wouldn’t call Tom a bastard – his parents were married.” Sherlock laughed weakly as she approached him. “Are you alright, Sherlock? You don’t normally drink in the middle of the night. Is this about your screw-up?”

 _Oh, it’s about my screw-up alright, just not the one you’re thinking of_. “I don’t want to talk about it.” He drained the glass in one go.

Molly gave him a sympathetic look. “Alright.” She took another shot glass out of the cabinet. At his questioning look, she said, “No one should drink alone.” She poured herself a shot then took a small sip. “Do you get drunk like a human?”

“It would take a lot more than this to get me drunk. I simply picked up the human habit of a drink or two when I’m stressed.” He poured himself another shot.

Molly watched him for a moment then said gently, “Why don’t you want to talk about it?”

“I’m an incubus, not a masochist.”

She rolled her eyes. “You said you live alone, so I’m guessing you don’t have anyone you can confide in. You can confide in me, Sherlock.”

He watched her for a moment then said quietly, “Alright, but not here. The place for heartfelt confessions is the bedroom.” He left the room, relieved when he heard her following him. He considered going to the guestroom but decided they would both be more comfortable in her room. He sat down on her bed, his back against the padded headboard.

Molly sat at the foot of the bed and said gently, “Go on, Sherlock.”

“An incubus’ main role is to seduce the innocent,” he said in the quietest, most neutral tone he could manage, his eyes avoiding hers. “Sometimes, it ends in the victim’s death. Other times, the victim becomes pregnant. The offspring of an incubus or a succubus and a human is called a campion. Normally, they become demons themselves.”

“Normally?” Molly asked. She sounded both fascinated and repulsed by his story.

“It’s possible for a campion to be claimed by the other side. I was ordered to sire a campion on a virtuous Welsh noblewoman. The seduction went as planned. However, when my son was born, I wasn’t there to claim him like I should have been. Instead, his mother had him baptized right after birth.”

“Did you ever see him?”

“No, I was punished for losing a powerful campion to the light with a century of torment in Hell. By the time I came back, my son had vanished.” His voice was full of regret.

Molly moved closer and gently took his hand. “I’m sorry, Sherlock. What was his name?”

“Myrddin Emrys.”

She stared at him like he had grown another head. “You mean to tell me that **you’re** the incubus who fathered Merlin?”

“Yes.”

She shook her head a bit. “I wish my father could have met you, he was an amateur Arthurian scholar.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s all you have to say on the matter?”

She gently squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry you lost your son.” After a moment’s hesitation, she hugged him briefly. “I have a ton of questions but they can wait for another time.” He nodded and she was glad to let the subject of his son drop for now. “Do you always impregnate or kill every woman you sleep with?”

“No, only those of interest to my superiors.”

“Have you ever disobeyed them?”

“Not yet.” _If they told me I have to harm you in any way, I’d do a lot more than disobey them._

“Do you feel better now that you’ve told someone?” she asked gently.

“A little,” he admitted.

She watched him for a moment. “Have you ever been in love, Sherlock?”

 _You mean other than right now?_ “No. I’m not capable of it. No demon is.”

“Nonsense,” she said firmly, surprising him. “You were an angel once, weren’t you?” At his nod, she went on. “Angels can love, can’t they?”

“Well, most of them,” he said, thinking of his brother.

“I doubt the Fall robbed you of your ability to love.”

He smiled faintly. “If this ends with you saying I just need to find the right woman…”

Molly rolled her eyes. “No, I was going to end with a different cliché – you need to keep your heart open.”

“You’re right, that is a cliché.”

“I have faith in you, Sherlock. You’re a good man, despite not being human.” She leaned forward to softly kiss his cheek. “If you behave, you can stay here tonight.”

He blinked at her then nodded. Sherlock went back to the guestroom to change. By the time he came back to Molly’s bedroom, she had changed into her pajamas and was in bed with a book, reading.

 _This could be my future,_ he thought, then mentally shook himself. _No, this will never be my future. Molly will find someone else and I will spend my days looking after her and her husband, then their children too._ He felt a pain in his chest at the thought of Molly starting a family with another man.

Molly looked up as he approached the bed. The smile she gave him was genuinely happy, even fond, and Sherlock felt himself smiling back despite the pain.

_Maybe I am a masochist after all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I couldn't resist making Sherlock the only specific incubus I've heard of, the one who fathered Merlin. I hope no one objects. The Merlin connection will be pivotal to the sequel to this story.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you haven't noticed, the rating has gone up. Yeah, this is when the sex starts. Bear in mind that this is my first smut fic, so please be gentle.

A couple of days later, Molly woke up feeling like she had been hit by a fleet of buses. She called in sick then stumbled out of bed and into the kitchen to find Sherlock looking through a recipe blog. On her laptop. Molly rolled her eyes, too tired and sore to do anything else, then winced when the gesture worsened her headache. Sherlock looked up at her and assessed her condition in less than a heartbeat.

“I’ll give you two choices,” he said gently but firmly. “You can lay down on the sofa or your bed, but you are going to lay down.”

“Sofa,” she muttered. “The telly’s out here.” She sat down on the sofa then promptly had a coughing fit. When she was done, Sherlock standing in front of her with a bottle of cough syrup. She smiled up at him weakly as he handed it to her. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He went back to the kitchen while Molly took a dose then settled against the sofa.

Needing a comfort show, she brought up Netflix then put on _Glee_. Sherlock came over a little later with one of the pillows from her bed and her favorite rainbow-striped afghan. She smiled at him gratefully as he put the pillow at one end of the couch and covered her with the afghan. “Where were you the last time I was sick?”

Sherlock chuckled. “Probably doing something that would make you blush.”

He winked and Molly indeed felt herself blushing as images filled her mind. Sherlock grinned at her then went back to the kitchen. Grabbing a magazine from the coffee table, Molly fanned herself, wishing she could cool down her mind the same way.

 _I have the world’s sexiest flatmate and we’re “just friends,” at my request. Maybe it’s my mental health that needs to be checked. Ugh, I can’t even remember why I’m resisting him._ She looked up as Sherlock set a tray on the coffee table. On it were a cup of weak tea, two slices of plain toast on a plate, two painkillers, and a glass of orange juice. “Thanks.”

He smiled a bit. “You’re welcome. Is there anything else you need?”

“Tissues and, um, company?” She smiled weakly as she took the pills with the juice. “Even _Glee_ gets boring after a while. Toby used to hang out with me all day when I was sick. I miss that.”

“I see, so I’m to take the place of your cat.” His tone was annoyed but Molly could see the truth – his eyes were dancing.

She giggled. “Well, you are my pet demon.”

Sherlock grinned at her wickedly, a flash of red in his eyes, then he leaned to murmur in her ear, “I’ll get you for that, Molly.”

 _Now I’m blushing again, damn him,_ she thought fondly. She playfully smacked his arm. “Behave.”

He chuckled as he left the sitting room. When he came back, he was wearing his jeans from the bar, a gray t-shirt Molly had never seen on him before, and no shoes. The shirt was tight enough to show off his muscles and Molly decided she wasn’t going to ask where he got it, she was just going to enjoy the view. Sherlock set a box of tissues on the coffee table then sat down next to her. Even though they weren’t touching, Molly could feel his body heat radiating off him. She shivered and Sherlock raised an eyebrow at her.

“Sorry, just a chill.”

He grinned. “I have the perfect cure for that.” He gently pulled her into his lap, his arms wrapping around her loosely.

 _Oh, Heaven…_ Molly curled into him, her head on his shoulder, and let his body heat warm her. “How warm are you?” she murmured, her breath on his neck.

It was Sherlock’s turn to shiver. “Incubi and succubi are a few degrees warmer than humans.” He smiled a bit. “You’ll really appreciate the difference this winter.”

Molly giggled. “My own demon-shaped hot water bottle.” She felt one of his hands slip under her pajama top and stroke her back. “That is, if you’re still in my good graces.”

Sherlock chuckled as he removed his hand. “You can’t blame an incubus for trying.”

He leaned back against the sofa and Molly felt herself dozing off. She yawned softly and closed her eyes. Just before she fell asleep, she felt soft lips kiss her forehead.

A week later, Molly was well again and ready to tackle the morning. She walked into the kitchen and found it incubus-less. There was, however, a full pot of coffee and a note.

_Molly,_

_I needed to get some emergency supplies. Coffee is ready. I’ll be back soon._

_Sherlock_

_Emergency supplies?_ Molly wondered. She checked the fridge and the pantry. _We have plenty of everything, what is he on about?_

Half an hour later, she was still in the kitchen, sipping coffee and contemplating making a bowl of cold cereal when Sherlock walked in with a cardboard box full of airholes and some plastic shopping bags. Molly examined the bags. _Kitten food and a litter box?_ Her eyes widened. “Sherlock, what-”

“You were in dire need of a new pet since Toby is gone and I don’t count.” He set the box down on the floor in the sitting room and grinned at her. “Go on, open it.”

Molly walked into the sitting room and knelt on the floor beside the box. She slowly opened it. A black furry head with pointed ears and bright yellow eyes looked up at her curiously.

“Aww! Aren’t you darling?” She gently picked the kitten up and settled it in her lap. The kitten started to knead her pajama-clad thigh.

Sherlock chuckled. “It’s a boy, he’s neutered and litter-trained and he’s had all his shots.”

Molly beamed up at him. “Sherlock, thank you! I’m going to call him Devil.”

She gestured for him to join her on the floor. He sat beside her, chuckling still. She gave him a quick peck on the lips. Sherlock stared at her, blinking, and Molly just grinned.

The next morning, Molly received a text.

8:03a Are you free for lunch? MW

8:07a With you, Mary, always. Molly

8:10a Excellent! Rosie and I will meet you at Angelo’s at noon. MW

8:10a Oh, and no guys. This is a girls-only lunch. MW

Molly walked into Angelo’s at noon and found Mary and year-old Rosie at their favorite table. She sat down across from Mary and grinned at Rosie, who was sitting in a high chair and playing with a handful of Cheerios.

Mary looked her over, grinning herself. “Either you’re in love or you’re drinking 8 glasses of water a day – you’re glowing.”

Molly rolled her eyes, laughing. “Neither, I swear.”

“Uh huh,” Mary said, her grin widening. “Mind if I perform a little experiment?”

She raised an eyebrow. “What sort of experiment?” When Mary didn’t respond, she let out a melodramatic sigh. “Very well.”

“How’s Sherlock?”

Molly couldn’t help a smile. Mary crowed in triumph.

“Liar, you are in love!”

“He’s just a friend, Mary. Like Greg or John.”

Mary scoffed. “You don’t light up like that when I mention Greg.” She smiled a bit. “And if you lit up like that when I mentioned John, I’d shoot you.” At Molly’s laugh, she went on. “Ask him out. Snog him. Shag him. Do **something**.”

“Little ears, Mary,” she said, indicating her goddaughter.

Mary scoffed, smiling. “She’s too young to understand those words, but you certainly aren’t. What’s stopping you?”

“It’s … complicated.”

“Conan Doyle novellas are complicated, this is easy. He’s hot, he really likes you, and you’re both single. I’m telling you, kiss that man like there’s no tomorrow and see where it leads.”

 _I wish it was that easy_ , Molly thought, shaking her head. _But there’s so much more than what Mary knows._

When Molly and Sherlock walked into the flat that night, Sherlock went to the kitchen to check on dinner and Molly went to the fireplace in the sitting room. Knowing Sherlock was probably watching her, she took her framed engagement photo off the mantle then carried it to her bedroom. Molly wrapped the frame in an old jumper she no longer wore then put it in a box in the bottom of her closet.

A few days later, Molly decided she would make dinner for Sherlock. She had her iPod playing and was swaying along to “Hungry Eyes” coming from her little speaker as she mashed potatoes. _God, this song could be about Sherlock and me. The way he looks at me sometimes is definitely hungry_. She suddenly felt large hands gently holding her hips as she swayed and could feel the heat of his body behind her. She leaned against him for a moment then he took her hand and spun her around to face him. Sherlock took her in his arms and started to dance with her. _Good God, I’m so turned on and it’s not even dirty dancing, it’s a proper ballroom hold._ Molly laughed softly at the absurdity of it all.

Sherlock just gazed at her. As the song ended, he was leaning in for a kiss when her mobile rang.

Molly gave him an apologetic look then answered it. “Hi, Greg.”

“Hey, Molly. I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner with me tonight.”

 _Greg, you have the worst timing on the planet._ “Oh, um, I can’t tonight, it’s already made. How about tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow’s fine, pick you up at seven?”

“Sure.”

“Great, I’ll see you then.” She got off the phone to find Sherlock looking annoyed.

“If he really respected you, he would have given you more notice.”

She shrugged. “Greg’s a busy man, maybe he didn’t have time to call me sooner.”

“Do you like him?” Sherlock’s voice was quiet, resigned.

“He’s a good friend, he always has been.”

He said after a moment, “I should go with you.”

 _I have got to lighten the mood._ “Oh no, you’re staying here.” She smiled a bit. “This is a humans-only date, no incubi allowed.”

The long-suffering look he gave her made her giggle.

The next evening, Molly noticed that Sherlock had made himself scarce while she got ready for her date. She was in the foyer, just pulling on her coat, when she heard him playing his violin in the guestroom. After a moment, she realized he was playing “Hungry Eyes.” _Is he trying to get me to change my mind? God knows I want to, but I did promise Greg. I know I could have a normal relationship with him, but who wants normal? Of course, I’m not sure what kind of relationship I’d have with Sherlock. Would he stop sleeping with other women? Would we grow old together? Would he want to have children with me after what happened with Myrddin?_ She was about to go to the guestroom and ask him when Greg knocked on the door.

Molly came home a couple of hours later to find Sherlock dozing on the sitting room sofa, Devil asleep on his stomach. She gently picked the kitten up and set him on the chair then was draping an afghan over Sherlock when he opened his eyes. He assessed her.

“You didn’t sleep with him.”

Molly rolled her eyes. “Correct. Greg and I decided we’re better off as friends.”

“Any particular reason why?” He grinned triumphantly

“Goodnight, Sherlock.”

A few days later, Molly had just finished a particularly trying day at work and was walking out of Bart’s when she saw Sherlock waiting for her on the sidewalk, as usual.

Sherlock took one look at her and said firmly, “Forget the Tube, we’re taking a cab.”

Molly was too worn out to argue. Once they were settled in the cab, Sherlock took off his gloves then took her hand, squeezing it gently. The warmth from his hand relaxed her a bit.

She sighed quietly, her eyes on their joined hands. “Meetings, paperwork, then an autopsy on a child who died in a house fire,” she said in answer to his unspoken question. “I had to tell Greg that the child had been beaten severely before the fire started. He should be arresting the parents even as we speak. How can any parent do that to their child?”

“In all my years, I’ve seen the worst of humanity,” Sherlock said softly, “but I have also seen the best. For every parent who would harm their child, there are many more who would do anything for them.” He lifted his free hand to her chin, gently raising it until her eyes met his. “You are the best person I have ever had the privilege to know, Molly. I know you would do nothing but love your children.”

Molly searched his eyes but couldn’t find any indication that he was anything but sincere. She smiled at him softly, feeling some of the stress of the day start to leave her. “Thank you, Sherlock.” She moved closer to him and laid her head on his shoulder, sighing softly. “I wanted kids when I was younger. I dreamed of a nice house in the country with a bunch of little ones running around.”

“What happened to the dream?” he asked, wrapping his arm around her.

Molly laughed mirthlessly. “The men I met didn’t want the same things. Jim was only after sex. Tom was more focused on his career.” At Sherlock’s surprised look, Molly nodded. “I can admit that now. To be fair, he told me at the beginning he wasn’t really interested in children.”

“Instead of giving up the man you loved because he didn’t share your dream, you gave up your dream?”

“Yes.” She smiled weakly. “All those motivational posters I had as a kid would be very disappointed in me.”

“Molly…” he said sternly.

“If I ever get married, I’ll make sure he wants children, alright?”

He nodded. “And that he truly appreciates you.”

“I’m not asking for miracles here, Sherlock.” She smiled a bit.

Sherlock growled at her and the only thing Molly could think was, _Damn, I need to annoy him more often, that sounded so sexy._

When they arrived at her flat, Molly went to her bedroom and changed into her pajamas. Sherlock had suggested they make it a Netflix night and Molly had heartily agreed.

There was a knock on the door. “Molly? How do you feel about Chinese?”

A craving Molly didn’t realize she had flared up. “I could really go for peanut butter chicken right about now.”

She heard him chuckle through the door. “Noted. I’ll be back soon. While I’m gone, you can decide what we’re going to watch.”

“Will do.”

By the time Sherlock was back with take-away, Molly was on the couch with Devil in her lap as she scrolled through the options on Netflix. He carried the bag to the kitchen, chuckling. “Glad to see you two got comfy while I was gone.”

Molly laughed. “I think Devil likes me.”

“Mmm, tell him to get in line.”

He brought her food out on a tray. Molly set the kitten on the floor then took the tray from him. Sherlock went back for his tray then sat down with it next to her.

“What did you decide on?” he asked.

“Nothing yet. All of the comedies are idiotic, I’ve seen all of the documentaries that interest me, and I’m not in the mood for an animated movie.”

Sherlock looked at the screen for a moment then back at her. “How about romance?”

Molly expected him to tack on innuendo but when he didn’t, she shrugged a bit. “Alright.” She put on _The Princess Bride_. “This is one of my favorite movies.”

Sherlock nodded. “It’s a classic.”

She stared at him. “You’ve seen it?”

He grinned at her. “Come now, Molly, is that really so … inconceivable?”

Molly groaned quietly. “My God…”

“Not quite.” He smirked.

She tried her best to ignore him during the movie, she really did. Molly focused on her food and when that was done, she focused on Devil, who had jumped onto the sofa and crawl back into her lap as soon as she got rid of the tray. Still, she couldn’t ignore the heat radiating from the incubus next to her, or the smell of his cologne, or his chuckles whenever something funny happened on-screen.

When the movie ended, Sherlock smiled at her. “Feel like another one?”

Molly felt mesmerized by his eyes. After a moment, she mentally shook herself. “Um, sure.” She pulled up _Pride & Prejudice_.

Sherlock smirked. “I should’ve known you’d like Mr. Darcy.”

She smirked back. “How do you know it’s not Mr. Bingley who’s my type?”

He leaned to murmur in her ear, “Because I know how much you like tall, dark, and handsome.”

Molly shivered. She wanted to tell him that her taste was expanding, but all she could say was, “Oh yeah…”

Sherlock chuckled then softly kissed her cheek. “Never change, Molly.”

She wanted to melt into a puddle right there. _Oh God… Why can’t I just do as Mary suggested and kiss him?_

When the movie was over, Molly pretended to be tired and said she was going to bed early. She could tell Sherlock didn’t believe her but at that point, she didn’t care. _I have to put some distance between us or I am definitely going to jump him._ She said goodnight to Sherlock then went to her bedroom. After going through her nightly routine, she got into bed and tried to sleep.

After almost two hours of tossing and turning, she finally gave up. _It must be my hormones. No way is it because there’s an ultra-sexy incubus in the next room._ She almost believed that. _I need an orgasm so bad but I can’t masturbate with him so close, he’d hear me. I have to get rid of him._ She got up, went to the guestroom, and knocked lightly on the door.

“Yes?” Sherlock asked, not sounding tired at all.

“Sherlock, can you do me a favor, please?” she asked, hearing some of the desperation make its way into her voice.

The door opened a moment later to reveal Sherlock in his pajamas. He looked her over and Molly knew he could tell exactly what was wrong with her. She decided to lie anyway.

“Could you go to the store for me, please? I’m cramping really bad and I’m out of painkillers.”

Sherlock gave her a dubious look. “Cramps? Are you sure that’s what’s wrong?”

“I’m positive. Please, Sherlock?”

“Very well.” He snapped his fingers and his clothes changed to his usual black suit, this time with the aubergine shirt, and Molly whimpered at the sight. He raised an eyebrow but said simply, “I’ll be back soon. Call my mobile if you think of anything else.”

“Thank you, Sherlock.”

As soon as he was gone, Molly locked herself in her bedroom, took off her pajamas and panties, then stretched out on the bed. She closed her eyes and imagined Sherlock just as he was a moment ago, very sexy and knowing exactly what she needed. She slowly slid a hand up her stomach to her left breast, imagining it was his much larger hand. Fingers cupped her breast then lightly played with her nipple. “Sherlock…” she whispered. In her head, he was gazing at her with eyes that burned red-hot with passion.

Her other hand moved between her legs and she imagined it was Sherlock’s hand seeking out her swollen clit and starting to stroke it. Being so close to the edge already, her body soon exploded into fireworks, leaving her out of breath and finally, finally sated. Molly opened her eyes and blanched.

Sherlock was standing by the bed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and Molly grow closer and make plans for the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here it is, the chapter you've all been waiting for. As a reminder, this is my first smut fic. I tried to keep clichés out of the bedroom, but I think a few slipped in. I'm so happy that I was able to see this story all the way through to the end. A big thank you to all my readers, I couldn't have done this without your support.

Molly opened her eyes and blanched.

Sherlock was standing by the bed. She felt her pale cheeks suddenly flame with her mortification and she desperately tried to cover herself but Sherlock grabbed the sheet before she could, holding it out of her reach. His pupils were blown black and what she could see of his irises was blazing red. He was gazing at her with a hunger she had never seen from anyone before. Her eyes strayed down until she saw the prominent bulge in his trousers.

“How … how long have you been standing there?” she asked quietly, her eyes going back to his.

“From the moment you said my name,” he growled, his voice thick with emotion. “You must have had your hand on the mark.”

“Well, I’m obviously not in distress so you can go now and let me die of embarrassment in peace,” she muttered and turned her face away.

She felt the mattress dip as he sat down close to her. When he spoke, it was with a deeper voice than she had ever heard from him. “Molly Hooper, I have lived for thousands of years and in all that time, never have I been more aroused than I am at this moment.” She looked up at him, surprised, as he asked softly, “May I touch you?”

 _He doesn’t love you,_ a traitorous little voice whispered in her head. _He just wants to get laid._ It was enough to make her hesitate.

Sherlock must have seen the doubt in her eyes. He smiled gently. “It’s alright. Come to me when you’re ready, I’ll be waiting.” He leaned to kiss her hair then got up and left the room.

That started an all-out war in her head between her desire and her need to protect herself.

_You idiot! The hottest bloke you have ever met, or are ever likely to meet, wants you, has wanted you since you met, and you let him walk away?_

_No, you’re doing the right thing. You don’t know what his intentions are._

_Who cares what his intentions are? As long as we’re talking multiple orgasms, the rest doesn’t matter._

“Shut up, both of you!” She got up, pulled on her bathrobe, then went to the door and opened it, nearly tripping over the incubus sitting in the hallway.

Sherlock chuckled as he stood up and came into the room. “I knew it wouldn’t take you long to come to your senses,” he murmured, his eyes dancing.

Molly laughed weakly. “I don’t know about that – I just had to break up an argument in my head between my desire for you and my need to avoid heartache.”

Sherlock’s head tilted slightly as he regarded her. “You think I’m going to break your heart?”

She sighed quietly. “One way or another, yes.”

He took both of her hands in his, saying softly, “I swore I would never hurt you, that means in every way. You are more precious to me than anything in this world.”

“Because of the contract,” she said quietly, her eyes on his chest.

He lifted his hands to either side of her head, gently tilting it up until her eyes met his. “No, because you’re you, Molly. What must I do to convince you my intentions are honorable?” The warmth from his hands was nothing compared to the warmth in his eyes.

“You could start with telling me what your intentions actually are.”

He smiled at her softly. “Well, first, I intend to take you to bed and make love to you for the rest of the night.”

 _Good answer, but what about tomorrow? And the next day?_ “Will you still be there in the morning?”

“Not even Hell itself can take me from your side,” he murmured.

Sherlock lowered his head and kissed Molly so deeply that her knees weakened. She clung to his shoulders and kissed him back with all the passion that was building inside her. He lowered his hands to the tie of her bathrobe and untied it. Molly let go of his shoulders long enough to slip the robe off. The way he gazed at her was enough to make her melt.

“You are exquisite,” he whispered.

“Thank you,” she murmured, blushing. “I want to see you, Sherlock.” She smiled a bit. “Again.”

He chuckled softly. She started to unbutton his shirt and found her hands were trembling. Sherlock helped her then slipped the shirt off. Molly gazed at his sculpted chest then kissed his left pectoral, just above his heart. She felt him shiver then he wrapped his arms around her. Emboldened, she lightly nibbled where his neck met his shoulder and heard him hiss.

“Molly…” he growled softly.

Her hands moved to his waist, unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his trousers then slowly easing the fly down over his straining cock. She pushed his trousers down his thighs then Sherlock sighed as she slipped her hand into his boxers and wrapped it around his manhood.

“That first night, when I saw you,” Molly murmured, “I knew you were big but I never imagined…” She trailed off, blushing. _He’s an incubus, made to seduce women. I should have expected he’d be well-endowed_.

Sherlock chuckled softly. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Her thumb slowly rubbed the tip and Sherlock groaned her name, his eyes closed. Molly seized the opportunity to softly kiss his lips and she reveled in his enthusiastic response. She eagerly helped him out of his shoes, trousers, and silk boxers then giggled in delight when Sherlock suddenly picked her up and spun her around, laughing along with her.

She nuzzled his neck as he carried her to the bed then gazed at him as he laid her on it. Sherlock sat on the bed then leaned to kiss her softly. Molly kissed him back, one hand coming up to run through his soft black curls. She pulled back enough to gaze into his eyes.

“Are your irises always red when you’re aroused?” she asked softly.

He smiled a bit. “Whenever I’m feeling particularly devilish. Right now, for instance, I feel like I’m about to debauch the purest angel.”

Molly laughed softly. “I’m not exactly innocent, Sherlock.”

He murmured, smirking, “Compared to me, you are.”

He kissed her again, sliding a hand between her legs, his other hand on her hip. Molly spread them wider, her hips jerking as his warm fingers expertly stroked her clit.

“Oh God,” she panted.

“Not quite,” he murmured against her lips.

She laughed breathlessly but was cut off when he kissed her. Molly clung to his shoulders as she felt one of his long fingers slide into her, then another. He started to thrust them slowly, murmuring, “You’re so wet for me, Molly…”

“I’ve been aroused all evening,” she murmured, moving her hips to meet his fingers. “Though, if I’m honest with myself, I’ve been aroused since we met.”

“Once you got over your fear.” He lowered his head to her left breast, his tongue laving her hardened nipple.

Molly gasped softly, her hands finding their way into his curls. “That’s true.”

He looked up at her, grinning wickedly. “I may have overdone the theatrics a bit that night, I wanted to see how you would react.”

She laughed breathlessly. “Well, you certainly had my undivided attention.” Molly moaned softly as he curled his fingers to stroke her center, his thumb stroking her clit. “Oh God, don’t stop…”

“Never,” he murmured.

Sherlock lowered his head to her other nipple. As soon as his soft, full lips wrapped around it, Molly felt herself shatter. Sherlock pulled his fingers out then stretched out beside her and held her close as she came down from her climax.

Molly buried her face in his shoulder, her breaths heavy against his neck. “Sherlock … that was-”

“Brilliant?” he suggested, smiling a bit. “Amazing? Perfect?”

“The best orgasm I’ve ever had,” she murmured. She softly kissed his neck.

“Mmm…” Sherlock chuckled. “I believe the bar has been set.”

Molly laughed weakly. “I think a stronger orgasm would do me in completely.” She lifted her head to grin at him. “But I’m willing to find out.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” he murmured, pleased. He kissed her softly as he gently rolled her onto her back again and positioned himself between her legs. Sherlock guided his cock to her dripping entrance then lowered his head to murmur in her ear, “I love you, Molly Hooper.”

Molly was too surprised to respond before Sherlock slid into her slowly, then she was too overwhelmed by the feeling of him stretching her to say anything at all. He held her close but didn’t start to move within her until she relaxed around him. Molly murmured as she met his thrusts, “God, Sherlock…”

Sherlock chuckled softly as he kissed her neck. “I’m feeling pretty reverential myself.” He lifted his head to kiss her deeply and Molly kissed him back with all the love in her heart that she felt but couldn’t bring herself to say. Sherlock gazed at her, murmuring, “This was more than worth the wait, Molly.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, “for everything. For waiting patiently.” She smiled a bit. “Well, as patiently as you could. For always being there for me. For just being you.”

“You are welcome, my darling,” Sherlock murmured.

Molly could feel another orgasm building. _God, I can’t remember the last time I came this much…_ “Sherlock, I…” Sherlock lowered a hand between their bodies to stroke her clit and Molly moaned his name as she climaxed for the third time that night.

He groaned deeply and thrusted a few more times before he growled as he found his own release. Sherlock pulled out then laid down beside her and gently pulled her into his arms. Molly held him close, feeling happier and more satisfied than she had ever felt in her life. After a moment, she laughed softly.

“That was a mean trick you pulled, Sherlock – changing Tom’s photo to yours. I assume you did it your first night here, but I didn’t notice for a week. Ever since the mugging, I avoided looking at that photo, but I couldn’t bring myself to put it away. I thought it would be like burying him all over again. But after that dream about him, I thought it was finally time to let him go.”

“And when you saw it was me instead?” he asked softly, his hands caressing her back.

“I was angry at first,” she admitted. “I thought you were being cruel. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that you wanted me to keep you in mind all the time.” She smiled at him softly. “I saw it as another flirtation.”

He smirked. “And this one you didn’t object to.”

Molly laughed softly. “Of course not, you’re the handsomest man I ever met. I didn’t want to admit it but it was nice seeing your face while I was on the computer.”

Sherlock chuckled. “Good.” He gazed at her for a moment, one hand coming up to gently stroke her cheek. “I’m breaking the contract, Molly.”

She stared at him. “Why?”

“We both got what we really wanted. You have your vengeance. I thought I wanted your soul, but I’ve realized that what I wanted was all of you.”

“But without the contract, wouldn’t that make you free to accept other bargains or seduce women under orders?”

“No.” Sherlock took a deep breath. “I’m leaving Hell’s service. I’ve found a better master.” He smiled a bit. “Or I should say, mistress.”

She grinned. “That’s ‘Molly’ to you.”

He kissed her grinning lips and Molly knew she’d found Heaven.

* * *

Sherlock woke to a bright light filling the room, a light that was greatly outshining the early-morning daylight just starting to filter in. He instinctively held Molly’s sleeping form closer, muttering, “Bloody hell…” _We just fell asleep and my brother decides to show up now?_

“Language,” his older brother admonished.

Muttering a few worse epithets, Sherlock reluctantly got out of bed, careful not to disturb Molly, and joined his brother on the other side of the room. “What the hell are you doing here, Mycroft?”

“Could you at least have the decency to face me in your true form instead of this façade you show humans?”

 _As far as I’m concerned, this **is** my true form,_ Sherlock thought, then he sighed quietly. “Fine.” In the blink of an eye, he had huge, black-feathered wings, a curled horn like that of a ram on either side of his head, and a long, pointed tail. When he smiled at his estranged brother, his teeth were all fangs. “Satisfied?”

Mycroft nodded. “I’ve come to warn you, little brother,” the angel said, his tone one of utmost disapproval. “You must stop this thing with Dr. Hooper before it goes any further.”

“What business is it of yours? By willingly sleeping with a demon, she’s a ‘fallen woman’ by your standards. Your side can’t have any interest in her still.”

“On the contrary, Dr. Hooper’s soul is pure enough to withstand any contact with you. Her heart, on the other hand, is not nearly as strong. You cannot remain together. There is no place on Earth for you, and no place in Hell for her.”

“I disagree,” said a soft voice from the bed.

Sherlock immediately froze in fear. _No! She can’t see me like this!_ He tried to change back but something was preventing it. Sherlock suspected the “something” was the angel standing next to him. Mycroft’s smirk confirmed it. _Bastard..._ Both brothers looked up to see Molly sitting up in bed, having modestly covered herself with the sheet. Sherlock knew she couldn’t see Mycroft, just the white light emanating from him. He hadn’t realized that she would be able to hear him. Sherlock noted painfully that she wasn’t looking at him at all.

“Sherlock does have a place on Earth,” she continued. “His place is with me.”

 _She feels that way even after seeing me like this?_ Sherlock wouldn’t have thought it was possible, but he found himself falling even more in love with her.

“But what of after your death?” Mycroft asked. He tried to be stoic but Sherlock thought he could see cracks in his brother’s wall. “You are destined for Heaven. He is most decidedly not.”

Molly just smiled. “Give me time.”

Mycroft’s eyebrows raised and he turned back to Sherlock. “Brother dear, I’ve changed my mind – if you let this one go, you’ll be worse than damned.” He gave Molly a formal bow, even though she couldn’t see it, then disappeared.

 _Don’t I know it?_ Sherlock fell to his knees in relief, closing his eyes. After a moment, he felt a soft hand on his shoulder.

“Sherlock?” Molly asked softly. He opened his eyes to see her kneel in front of him, her eyes full of concern, and her body wrapped in the sheet. She wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his shoulder.

Sherlock stiffened when she touched him, murmuring, “Molly, how can you touch me or even look at me when I’m like this?”

She lifted her head to gaze at him. “You’re still you, Sherlock, no matter what you look like.” She raised a hand to stroke his cheek. “This is your real form, isn’t it?”

His eyes closed at her touch and he raised a hand to cover hers. “As far as I’m concerned, my real form is the one you know.”

“Biblically,” Molly said, and he could hear the smile in her voice.

Sherlock laughed softly, the tension leaving him, then he realized he was no longer confined, and changed back. He opened his eyes and wrapped his arms around her, murmuring, “Molly, did you mean it when you said you could make me worthy of Heaven again?”

She gazed at him. “Yes,” she said firmly. “Did you mean it when you said you love me?”

“The only thing in my life I am certain of is that I love you.”

Her face lit up. “Then let’s make it two things – you love me and I love you.”

Sherlock lowered his head to kiss her softly then murmured in her ear, “Marry me?”

Molly whispered, shivering, “Hell itself couldn’t stop me.”

He chuckled softly as he reached for the sheet. She put her hands over his, stilling them.

“Sherlock, what about children?” she asked softly.

“One of the advantages of being an incubus is that I can only impregnate a woman if I want to. It’s the best form of birth control.”

“But … do you want to?”

Sherlock smiled as he realized what she was really asking. “Yes, someday.”

“Even after what happened with Myrddin?”

He nodded. “I want to know what it’s like to raise children with the woman I love.” He grinned wickedly. “And I’m dying to know what mischief children who are half you and half me will unleash on the world.”

Molly laughed softly. “If they have your eyes, I know I’ll let them get away with anything.”

Sherlock chuckled. “And if they have your eyes, I know I’ll give them anything.” He kissed her softly. “Molly, you’ve given me the one thing I have been searching for since the Fall.”

“What’s that?”

“A home.”


End file.
